


all things new

by dear_dunyazade



Series: The Citizens of Consternation, Arizona [1]
Category: American Dad!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_dunyazade/pseuds/dear_dunyazade
Summary: sorry the ending is kind of blah, I wrote it at 11 pmyeet those comments my way tho*probably up for revisions in the future*





	all things new

Franny cradles the babe near her heart. This shawl won’t keep them both warm enough, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try.

The town isn’t far. She repeats this to herself every second. She’s going to make it.

She can feel the fire, taste the sweet, heavenly water on her lips. The baby will be safe, fed, and bathed soon. 

She sighs to herself. She couldn’t just show up to a town with a babe and say it wasn’t her own. She’d be called crazy. A kidnapper. The cold may have bitten at her brain, but she still had some sense in her. She had to name the boy, and soon. 

When she tries to think, all her mind can go to is her sister. Poor Gwendolyn. Dying of illness, hundreds or even thousands of miles away, in their mama’s arms. Franny tries not to think of her as dead yet. Maybe the virus cured. Maybe it scurried off to the next healthy woman just trying to pass her child into the world. Maybe she was in the arms of her fiancé, the kind Steven Lopp. 

Steven... Yes. That’s a good name. She nods to herself. It’s a name fit for a fine young boy, a good man, and a wise old bartender. She was fairly sure Steven Lopp was the baby’s father. He certainly loved Gwendolyn enough to be just that. 

“Franny” didn’t feel right anymore. She’d been christened Francesca all those years ago. Gwen called her Franny, a nickname fit for a child. She didn’t even feel like Francesca anymore. But, God forbid she change it too far. Her mama chose for her, and now it was just about the last thing of home. What’s a nice name, she wondered?

Frida? That was too common. She wanted to be safe, not some ordinary girl. Faith? Too… prim. Too posh for a drifter. Florence? Close. 

Then, the name seemed to just appear, forming like light in the morning. “Francine.” She mumbled it to herself, testing the truth of it. “I am Francine. My name is Francine.” It almost came out as a laugh. Francine. Yes. It was perfect. Francine: a nice young woman, perhaps a singer, or performer, holding onto her nephew for her poor dead sister. It wasn’t a lie. Just a little stretch of truth.

Francine had been thinking of names so long she hadn’t even realized how close they were to the town. She squinted at the tiny sign hanging above her head. Consternation. What in the world could that mean? Strange name, and seemingly strange place. 

“Oh, miss! You look absolutely frozen to the bone.” A heavyset, brown-skinned man halfway stumbled down the town square to her. “Is something the matter?”

She stumbles over herself, holding the baby tighter, tears filling her eyes. “Yes, sir! Oh god, everything's the matter!” She doesn’t have the slightest clue who this man is. She doesn’t know his name, who he is, if he too is a drifter.

It doesn’t even seem to matter. He smiles at her, and tramps his way to her. “Don’t worry. I know a place that’ll help.” Despite not knowing anything more about him with those sentences, she trusted him. At the moment, they shared the same situation. Complete strangerhood.

In a mere minute, the man introduced himself as Lewis, and he was a free man, who ran the barbershop/doctor’s office of the town. He had a shiny smile, and warm hands. He’s rested one on her shoulder now, and looked into her eyes. “Now, uh… I don’t know if you are, but.” Lewis leaned in close to Francine. Steven, still fast asleep, yawned widely and stretched out his penny-sized fist. “If you’re running from the law, Consternation doesn’t mind. All of what’s left here isn’t too mindin’ of it. Just keep yourself quiet about it, that’s all.” He pulled back, smiling. “Understand?”

Francine felt her throat go dry. “Um… I’m sorry, Lewis, but does your town have anywhere to get a drink?” She propped Steven up onto her shoulder. “Perhaps for the boy, as well.”

Lewis gently pulled Francine along the dusty road, mumbling about Klaus, the bartender of the town. A strange German man, but rather skilled with drinks, and a fair conversationalist, even with his broken English. 

“He’s a fine man. Just a bit odd, you’ll see.” Lewis opens the door for Francine and Steven, who had finally woken up, shifting restlessly in her arms. “Heisler! Two whiskeys. And… a milk.”

A crackly, distinctly German voice called out, “Yessiree.” A tall, pale, almost fishlike man appeared from beneath the counter, with wet eyes and crisp copper hair pulled into a tail. Francine decided she liked him immediately. He seemed like a good friend to have in this new life.

After two more hours, Francine found herself and Steven booked in the room upstairs, as well as, admittedly, completely drunk, with two incredible new friends.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry the ending is kind of blah, I wrote it at 11 pm  
> yeet those comments my way tho
> 
>  
> 
> *probably up for revisions in the future*


End file.
